Bloody Snowballs
by Zeeah
Summary: In which James and Lily get together because of one big snowball. For jilyuntiltheveryend as a part of the Jily Secret Santa art exchange on tumblr. Thank you, Zay and Mina, you divine souls! Have a merry Jilymas, everybody.


** _Bloody Snowballs_**

**A/N: This one is for the Jily Secret Santa art exchange on tumblr. I hope you have a good laugh and all the Jily feels, jilyuntiltheveryend! **

When it's December, it's Christmas; when it's Christmas, it snows; when it snows, the Marauders snowball fight and when the Marauders snowball fight, Lily Evans secretly watches. Pretty much every soul in Hogwarts was aware of this, except for the Marauders themselves, obviously.

And so, the freezing Monday morning found a freezing Lily Evans squatting against the freezing window seat in the warm Gryffindor common room. Her bright purple sweater went extraordinarily with her fiery ponytail and to top the Clash of the Colours, there was a fluffy orange woolly hat nested cozily in her curls.

Lily was presently engrossed in a bowl of gooey treacle tart and the group of laughing young lads hurling around balls of white on the grounds below. She couldn't seem to decide which one of the equally fascinating entities to devote her attention to and as a result, the bowl and the lads had to make do with occasional bites and slightly more frequent gazes.

It was a particularly intense battle, because _yes_, snowball fights are a matter of life and death, thank you very much. And who-gets-the-fireplace-chair-for-a-week, of course. Which pretty much was life and death, as death by freezing was not uncommon among the Hogwartians, as you know. The Great Winter of 1967 recorded a total of seven deaths and a whopping _seven hundred and seventy seven_ bottles of Pepper-Up Potion. Not to mention the seventeen frozen house-elves.

I'd also like to clarify that the Great Winter of '67 is a figment of my imagination and should not be taken at face value under any circumstances. Not even if you're bored and have a fetish for the fantastically fake. Thank you.

So. As I was saying; Lily was alternating between her favourite dessert and her favourite winter pastime that morning, when out of the cold, wintry blue, James Potter got whacked on his gloriously messy-haired head with a Hagrid-sized snowball and promptly dropped to the ground. The guilty Sirius Black promptly dissolved into hysterical guffaws that could be heard even from Lily's current location, unfortunately. By some good grace, one Remus Lupin and one Peter Pettigrew rushed to their friend's aid at once, the latter barely stifling his snorts. And when I say friend here, I mean James, not Sirius, because it is common knowledge that Sirius Black is irrevocably and undeniably beyond all help. _Amen_.

And what did the lovely Lily do at this point, you ask? Well, she is very ashamed of this particular reaction even today, but Lily utterly, completely freaked out. Plate slipping out of her loose grip, eyes as wide as green Quaffles, she jumped to feet so suddenly, that the room seemed to spin drunkenly for a second. She shut her eyes tightly and forced herself to breathe. _He's absolutely _fine_, you mad bird. It's James I-broke-thirteen-bones-and-aced-my-Transfig-Owl-nonetheless Potter, for fuck's sake! Breathe, Evans_. Having regained precisely one-tenths of her usual composure, Lily opened her eyes and slowly turned her head to the frosty glass, fearing the worst. Which was James lying cold and dead in the snow, drowning in his own blood and Sirius still sitting there laughing his bloody balls off. And Peter somehow dressed in a gaudy pink tutu with a tiara to match. She didn't even know any more.

What she saw, however, was, well, _not_ that.

A dazed-looking James was sitting up with a goofy grin on his stupid face while Sirius slapped his back jovially. Remus was saying something to them, and by the stern frown on his face, he, at least, was not amused by the whole matter. Peter was crouched near a tree, quietly rolling another snowball. Lily almost jumped out of the window herself in sheer frustration. Would the four _never_ learn? She could bet her hair that one of them would end up somewhere in Azkaban one day and it would likely be she who would drag the sod there by the tips of his overlong hair. _Merlin_.

A quick glance towards the grounds confirmed her doubts. The boys were back on their feet, running around, dodging various assorted snowballs with positively giddy expressions on their boyish faces. It was the snowballs themselves that stole the show, though, Lily observed with a grudging smile. They were like nothing she had ever seen. But then, the Marauders were like nothing like Lily had ever seen. The mutant snowballs, as she thought of them here onward, were a bizarre blend of colours, ranging from rambunctious red to obnoxious orange to bright, bright blue. James was standing slightly away with his back to the other three, quietly muttering to a massive snowball in his hand. Lily pressed her nose to the glass, curious as to what colour his snowball would be. Just then, he turned.

It was green. A sparkling emerald green. And as cliched as she found it, it was the _precise_ shade of her own eyes. She saw the shining look on his face and unstuck her nose from the glass, only to find those very green orbs staring back at her. Oh, _James_. That sappy, adorable little twit. Lily sighed, a mixture of resignation and content. Time she got back to the intricacies of turning teapots into tortoises. As if _that_ would be of any bloody use in the future, unless she somehow managed to marry a tea-maker with a secret tortoise fetish. _Gah_.

When the tiny red alarm clock on her bedside table hummed her favourite Beetles' song at about three in the afternoon, Lily could have snogged it right then and there. Two straight hours of Transfiguration had left her with a sore brain and a potent desire to smash all the sodding teacups she ever saw again on the heads of any possible tortoise-owners. Yawning tiredly, she slid off her four-poster, wrapped a thick coat around herself and made her way down the spiraling staircase.

The common room was blissfully empty, the students either getting some much-needed shut-eye or out enjoying the glorious winter sunshine. Lily settled down on the sofa with a well-worn classic and a contented smile on her face. _Ah, Mr. Darcy_.

"Evans."

The smooth tones of Sirius Black interrupted her just when she was at the good part and Lily looked up with a frown creasing her brow.

"Black."

Smiling slightly at her annoyance, Sirius informed her breezily, "James is in the Hospital Wing. He probably won't make it through the night so you should go see him. Just thought you ought to know."

_What?_ Lily was up and grabbing Sirius' collar in a second. "Sirius Orion Black. You better tell me what really happened to James or the world will be deprived of little black-haired Black babies.

Sirius pried her hands off his pristine shirt, wincing slightly. "Temper, temper, Evans. I was just pulling your wand, sweetheart. _James_," He smirked devilishly, "-is absolutely fine. Just a mild concussion. Pomfrey is convinced it's pneumonia, though, so he's going to have to battle it out for the night. He hinted at me to hint at you to go visit him. Oh, and my hair is not greasy, you can see for yourself,"

"I'd wipe that smirk off your face if I were you, Black. Why don't you go tell your best mate that Lily apologizes, but she's extremely busy plotting _his_ best mate's gruesome murder? As for your hair, it matters about as much to me as McGonagall's favourite kitty toys. So could you please leave me in peace, now?"

"Sure, sure. I bet you need some time to cool your frazzled nerves, old girl. Don't worry, James will have never been better, especially now when I tell him how you called him _James_. Oh, he is going to be one happy ducky," Sirius chuckled throatily.

"I-you…Black, you –" Unable to fight off her rapidly growing blush, Lily settled for shooting Sirius the evilest eye she could manage and stormed off hurriedly.

"Take care, Evans!" He shouted after her, smiling.

He'd charm his hair pink if they didn't kiss by the end of the day.

Lily was starting to wish she would have said yes to the ninja training course that James had bragged about back in their fourth year. All this tiptoeing was getting frightfully boring.

_Thump. Thump._

The sound of approaching footsteps caused her to jump behind the wide tapestry and cast a hurried Disillusionment Charm on herself. Peeking out cautiously, she saw Pomfrey bustling her way along the corridor, mumbling about _bloody snowballs_. Ah, the coast was clear.

She slowly slid out of her hiding place and stepped through the double doors of the Hospital Wing, bells tinkling to mark her arrival. _Shit_, _bells_? Lily panicked, glancing around for possible hiding places before remembering that she was partly invisible. Snorting slightly at her own wacky memory, she spotted a familiar messy head right at the end of the Wing. The smile promptly dropped of her face. _James_.

If there was a world record for a 9-metre sprint, Lily would have been the proud winner that day. Panting heavily, she looked down at the very cause of her troubles lying innocently on the starched white sheets, wrapped up in a thick blanket. She quickly took the charm off herself.

James was curled up into a ball, hugging his pillow tightly. Dark, rumpled hair fell across his forehead, which was shimmering with sweat. His eyelashes were so long that Lily could have used them to sweep her ruddy dormitory. Stupid, adorable things. To complete the infuriatingly heart-melting picture, a sliver of drool hung from the corner of his mouth. And Lily did _not_ find it disgusting. _Merlin's saggy left boob_, she could have screamed with the frustration of it all. As she watched him, he suddenly twitched, nose wrinkling and forehead creasing. Just as quick as it happened, James relaxed into his previous state, lips curled in a contented half-smile. Bloody git even smirked in his dreams. Why was it that Lily wanted to grab his perfect face and snog him to within an inch of his life, then?

She pulled up a tool and plopped onto it. Well, if she was going to lose all her Gobstones then so be it.

"James. James, James, _James_. Why do you do this to me, huh? I wake up bright and early, looking forward to ogling you secretly, like I do every year and what happens? _This_. You go and get whacked by a snowball and end up in the sodding Hospital Wing. Can't you even let me _look_ at you in peace? Is that too boring for you? Or do you want to torture me even more than you already do, you little twat," Lily wasn't even looking at him now, quietly muttering to herself as all the confusing, annoying and oh-so-bloody-glorious feelings of the previous year came tumbling out like Firewhiskey from a popped bottle.

"All I wanted in life was to do well in school, make my parents happy and maybe buy an island. And what did life decide to unceremoniously drop onto my happy path? This boy with the smirk and more limbs than he knows what to do with. And a brilliant, _brilliant_ heart. Merlin, you don't even know how bloody besotted I am, do you? Pssh, of course you don't. You wouldn't know even if it came and bit your over-long nose wearing nothing but Dumbledore's tartan socks. Here I am, positively _throwing_ myself all over you and you're probably dreaming of treacle tart. I _like_ you, James. Really, really, absolutely _horrifyingly_, like you. I like how you lean back on your chair just enough not to fall over. I like the way you neatly pick out all the strawberries from your stinking strawberry tart and _then_ eat it. I even like your stupid insufferable mop of hair. _Bloody hell_, what wouldn't I give to run my fingers through it like you do every seven minutes. Yes, I counted and I'm not sorry. I love how you're _always_ there for your friends, no matter what. Tommy Harper reckons his arse has never been the same after that fateful day he called Sirius a snob. I love that you never, ever give up on me, James. Even when I'm a complete harpy, even when I forget to comb my hair, even when I trip and land on my arse in front of the entire school, even when I lie to your face and say that I hate you. I…love _you_, Potter. Probably."

And that was when she couldn't hold in the tidal wave of unsaid any more, leaned in, and ever-so-gently brushed James' chapped lips with her own. "James," she mumbled, lips curving up in a smile of relief, of quiet happiness. Just as quick as the kiss happened, it was over. She was done. Lily had kissed James. And he had no bloody idea.

She shakily stood up, spared one last, lingering look at the blissfully asleep boy and ran. As fast as her wobbly legs could carry her.

"Evans."

And _that's_ when Lily Evans fell off the Astronomy Tower. Almost.

"James! Are you bloody _mad_? You'd have been on the front page of the Prophet tomorrow if not for my amazing reflexes,"

A slow smile tugged at his lips. "Merlin, Evans. Over-react, will you? Anyway, I'd have caught you,"

Unthinkingly, she mirrored his smile. "Oh, yes. Those Chaser skills have to be of _some_ use, don't they?"

They grinned stupidly at each other. James reached forward to tuck an unruly lock behind her ear. "My nose is _not_ over-long."

And that was when Lily Evans almost fell off the Astronomy Tower. _Again_.

Heart thudding wildly, vision going slightly blurry, she could barely stand upright. "…_what_?"

The grin had vanished now. His eyes were unfathomable pools of hazel. "I wasn't asleep, Lily,"

_No_. She had to grip his arms to keep from falling over. "James,"

"Yes, Lily. I heard everything and the only thing I'd like to add is that my nose is not over-long, thank you very much. Oh, and I love you, too. Probably,"

Her eyes snappedup to meet his. Green to hazel. Lily to James. "You d-do?" He was awake. He _knew_. He was just faking, the bloody idiot. He loved her. Or at least, liked her quite a _lot_.

Godric's great balls, she was _beautiful_. Eyes wide and blazing, teeth gently gnawing at her bottom lip, hair like fire, fingers clutching tightly at his shirt. And she loved him. Probably.

"I…I was _scared_, Lily. I thought, no, I _knew_ that you'd freak out if I woke up bang in the middle of your little speech; very touching, by the way," That earned him a smack. "- and that is _just_ what you did, didn't you? Bloody hell, Lil, if I'd known you could run that fast, you'd be on the team by now. That was _fit_,"

"James," she tried to glare disapprovingly at him but failed miserably, lips lifting up into a tiny smile.

"Anyway, the fact is that I _know_. And you'd be calling Mungo's if you could hear my internal screeching right now," He tilted her chin up with a finger. "Don't worry, Lil, I won't tell,"

Lily burst into giggles. "You won't _tell_? Do you even know what you're rambling on about right now, you silly boy?" He smiled bashfully, running a hand through his hair.

"Well, you can't blame me. The girl of my dreams just gushed on for about two and a half minutes about how much she likes my hair- I mean, me; gave me a quick kiss; and is currently smiling up at me like all she wants to do is smash her lips with mine again- all in one ruddy _marvelous_ day. You can't expect me to be sane at all, can you?"

Her face was glowing in the pale moonlight. There was a soft smile on her face, like she wholly agreed with what he'd just said. Well, then so be it.

"I'm going to kiss you right now, Lily, so don't try to fall off the Tower again. You have been warned," And with that, he swooped in and tried to tell her everything he hadn't told her in one _fucking fantastic_ snog.

"Merry Christmas, James," she whispered.

"Merry Christmas, Lily. And my nose is _not_ over-long,"

The sound of giddy laughing echoed around the tower and it was a _very_ merry Christmas, indeed.

**A/N: Have a brilliant Jily Christmas, fellow Jilybillies! Eat lots, laugh lots, dream lots, love lots! May you get your very own James Potter this year! :)**

**~Zinnia (icriedwhenjilydied)**


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